Lost in Translation
by Mathematica
Summary: WIP, AU. When sabotage strikes a Republic capital ship, Anakin Skywalker is seriously injured. That’s nothing new. The consequences, however, are anything but typical ...
1. Chapter 1

This is what is hoped to be an attempt at a time-travel fic without breaking

**1.** the space-time continuum  
**2.** your brain  
**3 **_my_ brain

_or  
_  
**4. **my laptop (again).

Genre-wise, we're looking at angst, action, adventure -- plus a lot of explosions, space battles and a splash of murder mystery and traitor-hunting ... so, what are you waiting for? Get reading!

Betaed by the brilliant **frodogenic** :)

* * *

**Chapter One**  
_In which the scene is set, the laws of physics are utterly disregarded and the space-time continuum is wholly and irrevocably shattered._

_

* * *

_

The _Spirit of the Republic, 22 BBY.

* * *

_  
"We have tracked Dooku to Felucia."

Obi-Wan Kenobi gave a mental sigh, bracing himself for the worst. This latest assignment couldn't have come at a more inopportune time -- the _Spirit_ had only just finished a major weapons raid on Sullust, and both the ship and its crew were drained of both energy and supplies. "It seems unlikely." He countered, running a callused hand through his beard. "That's too near Republic outposts in the next system."

"And we haven't got sufficient supplies." Anakin admitted. "Not since the the _Divinity_ was gunned down."

"You will rendezvous with the _Freedom_ en route." Windu said. "Master Secura has also moved her troops to the system. She will await you there."

"Understood." The Jedi bowed as the image flickered out, leaving only static in its wake. Then, Anakin's previously calm expression dissolved into one of utmost irritation and he punched the console in frustration.

"Felucia? That's at the other kriffing end of the galaxy!" He snapped, turning smartly on one heel and stalking off in the direction of the bridge. Obi-Wan followed, hurrying slightly in order to match Anakin's longer strides. "Why can't Master Secura take him by herself? We completely _slaughtered _their forces over Coruscant, he can't have anything left to fight with --"

"Droids, Anakin, are more easily replaced than people. And in any case," Obi-Wan added with an involuntary glance at Anakin's right arm, "you of all people should know that Count Dooku is _not_ to be underestimated."

"I know." To his credit, Anakin barely flinched. "But I don't understand why he can't send someone closer. There _must_ be other Masters who're nearer to Felucia than we are."

"The _Spirit _is the largest ship in the fleet."

"The _Freedom_ has got ion cannons. As does the _Valiant_."

"And they are even further away." Obi-Wan pointed out.

"Yes, but that's not the point!" Anakin snapped, his scowl growing even darker.

"Then what is, Padawan?"

"It's just -- I -- I don't know!" A few seconds passed before he took a deep breath, hands gripping the railing as he looked out over the bridge. "It's nothing."

"Anakin --"

"_Nothing._"

Obi-Wan let it go. In front of him, Anakin exhaled loudly, smacking the railing with a steel fist. Obi-Wan climbed the stairs to join him, looking out over the bridge. The men manning the communications consoles were busy at their posts, apparently having been instructed by Admiral Yularen to alter their course for Felucia. This, presumably, was the cause of his Padawan's irritation.

"It'll only take a few weeks out of your leave, Anakin," he consoled him, gingerly putting a hand on his shoulder. "After the siege on Felucia, I'm sure the Council will --"

"Send us off on another assignment? _Again_? I was meant to be home three _months_ ago, Master!" He spat. "It's been too long, and -- and I miss --" He stopped abruptly, biting his lip. "I miss … it." He finished lamely.

Obi-Wan sighed again. "With any luck, we'll be given leave once this whole affair has ended. I must admit," he added ruefully, "that I do miss the Temple far more than I should. All of it."

"Even the food?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far." A pause. "Was it _really_ shurra fruit in the soup that one time?"

Anakin cracked a reluctant smile. "Well, that's what you'd _like_ to think. But I have it on good authority that the cook had actually gone and --"

"Never mind, I don't want to know." They both laughed, the sound going some way towards dissipating the tension between them.

"Don't worry, when I'm a Knight, we can pool our allowances together. That'll allow for what, one meal at Dex's?"

"I … I suppose." Obi-Wan replied halfheartedly, his earlier mood evaporating faster than rain on Tatooine. Though only in passing, Anakin had mentioned the one thing that he did not want to discuss: his knighting.

Obi-Wan was well aware that Anakin was ready for the trials. He knew that Anakin was mature enough -- he was intelligent, capable and a brilliant military strategist in his own right. His piloting skills were unsurpassed. He was, for the most part, confident, self assured and charismatic. He could beat any of his age mates into next week in a sparring session. On paper, it seemed, Anakin Skywalker was ready for knighthood -- but Obi-Wan knew that that was not the case in reality. What worried him was Anakin's inability to control his emotions, his habit of taking revenge for any petty act that offended him. And revenge, he knew, was not the way of the Jedi.

He knew that it was possible to refuse to recommend a Padawan for the trials, and he'd seen it done when he was a Padawan himself. But -- and this was the most pressing problem -- he knew that it would destroy Anakin were such a thing to happen. He felt himself to be overdue for Knighthood already; Obi-Wan knew that he would view any such refusal as a betrayal, and react accordingly. Furthermore, the Council believed that refusing a Padawan the trials was tantamount to casting them out of the Order, an action that Obi-Wan could not and would not take. Like it or not, the Jedi needed Anakin. The Republic needed Anakin. _He_ needed --

But that was irrelevant.

"… and so if we move our troops across the border, we would -- are you even listening to me?"

"Of course! I was merely …" Obi-Wan hurriedly searched for a suitable word. "Preoccupied."

Anakin's eyes flashed. Wrong word. "I see," he said curtly. "Well, we'll be making the first jump into hyperspace in less than a minute. I'm going to debrief Yularen about the situation on Felucia. I'm sure that you can keep yourself _preoccupied_ until then." He walked across the bridge to where the Admiral was standing without even a nod in his Master's direction.

Obi-Wan let the blatant lack of courtesy go. He had stopped upbraiding Anakin for it years ago.

Sighing, he leaned over the railing in much the same way that his Padawan had a few minutes ago, idly surveying the bridge and mentally counting down until the jump. The deckplates soon shuddered under his feet, the stars blurring into the telltale blue streaks of hyperspace. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he failed to notice the whine of the engines or the static interference on the screens.

He supposed that that was his first mistake.

* * *

_Bridge of the _Spirit of the Republic, _22 BBY.

* * *

_  
"Felucia will be heavily defended." Yularen warned him.

Anakin pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I _know_ that!"

"So you see why we must proceed from th south."

"It can't be done."

"Sending a battalion from the north would be suicide!" The Admiral protested.

"And sending one from the south would be _anticipated_!" Anakin snapped. "We'd lose the element of surprise. Dooku isn't stupid. If he realises that we're coming from the south, he'll situate his men near the river, here." He gestured to a point on the map, the display flashing blue. "By sending our troops from the north, we may suffer many casualties, but we'll stand a better chance of engaging the Separatist forces in a ground assault --"

"And of losing more men!" Yularen cried. "_Think_, man! These aren't droids you're talking about—they're men, _people_!"

"They're _soldiers._" Anakin said, looking towards the viewport.

"That doesn't make them expendable!"

"The ends justify the means."

"Skywalker --"

"This is _war_, Admiral."

"That doesn't make it right!" Yularen said. He stepped closer to Anakin, until they were almost nose to nose. "I'm a military man, _General._" He whispered quietly, so close that the words only carried to Anakin himself. "I've been fighting in battles longer than I wager you've been _alive_. And I'm telling you now that I will _never_ allow anybody under _my_ command to be needlessly sacrificed just for the capture of one man."

"Capturing this _man_," Anakin said icily, "would end the war completely."

"Now that's where you're wrong." Yularen said. "I've had word from the _Valiant_ that there's a new Separatist commander rising through the ranks, some sort of super droid that can even, so I've been told" -- here, he lowered his voice --"_kill Jedi_."

Anakin frowned, twisting his Padawan braid around his finger. "Impossible. The Council would have heard of it."

"Don't place all your faith in that Council of yours," the Admiral cautioned. "They might be Jedi, but they're not military men."

"Neither am I, Admiral. And yet" -- he gestured to the bridge -- "I'm supposed to command _this_."

Yularen paused for a moment, wondering how best to respond. "You'll learn," he decided on at last. "You're only what, twenty two?"

"Nineteen."

"And they drafted you to command _here_?" Yularen blustered. He had worked with Skywalker for all of three months, and yet still knew nothing about him, other than that his piloting skills, reckless nature and bad temper were unrivalled throughout the fleet. "At _nineteen_?"

"I am a Jedi, Admiral." He gave a bitter smile. "We are expendable."

For a moment there was silence, broken only by the clattering of keys at the communications desks. Finally, Yularen spoke. "Skywalker --"

"The troops go north, Admiral." He said tonelessly. "That is all."

A few seconds later, the hyperdrive deactivated.

* * *

_Bridge of the _Spirit of the Republic, _22 BBY.

* * *

_

Obi-Wan was jerked rather unpleasantly out of his meditation by the quivering of the deckplates as the ship reverted to realspace. He was momentarily confused -- the hyperspace jump was supposed to last at least nine hours, and he was almost positive that he hadn't been meditating for that long. Something was wrong. He rose and headed for the bridge, instantly spotting Anakin.

"Padawan, what's going on?"

"I don't know!" Anakin replied, vaulting over the railing and landing lightly on the main deck below. Some of the newer cadets looked on with awe, but the older hands remained impassive; they had seen Jedi before. "I think the hyperdrive's gone!"

"It could be an attack," Yularen surmised, marching to the navicomputer. "Fire up all full deflector shields! Now!"

"No, I don't think it was an attack," Anakin argued, leaning over a console. "The scanners don't read any other ships in a million-klick radius, and that rules out the possibility of a tractor beam, or of any other interference."

"Then what is it?" Obi-Wan asked. "A technical fault?"

"I'm not sure." Anakin began to type rapidly into the console, bringing up a series of the ship's blueprints. "System output is fine, the generators --"

"Power's failing!" An ensign shouted, pointing at his screen. "Shields are down two thirds and falling!"

"Lock in auxiliary power!" Yularen commanded. "Cut all systems to life support!"

"Hyperdrive has just failed." Obi-Wan said, leaning over Anakin's shoulder. "Shields are down. Generators stalling."

Yularen swore. "What in the name of the gods is going on here?"

Anakin didn't reply, staring intently at the screen.

"Padawan, what's happened?" Obi-Wan scanned the data for clues, but couldn't find any. "The computer reads that the systems are normal, but the ship --"

"Someone's cut the lines," Anakin said suddenly. "The main feed to the computer … somebody must have disconnected it."

"It might have been an accident."

"Impossible, the ship is Kuati."

"A traitor?" Yularen said, incredulous. "On _my_ ship?"

"It's the only possible explanation. If somebody _has_ cut the lines, it'll be a matter of reconnecting the wires. If not …" Anakin paused, his face dark. "I don't know." He rose abruptly. "I'd better check it out."

"You can't go down there!" Obi-Wan protested. "It's dangerous!"

"So is hanging around here like a sitting bantha and waiting to suffocate to death!" He snapped, sprinting towards the lower deck.

Obi-Wan turned to Yularen. "Where's he going? We have to follow him!"

The Admiral ignored him. "You!" He shouted, pointing at two clone troopers lounging near the door. "After him!"

"We're losing the auxiliary power, sir!" Someone shouted. The lights flickered ominously on the bridge.

"A traitor, on _my_ ship," Yularen whispered. He seemed to have aged ten years in as many seconds. "Do you think it could be a spy? A Separatist? Or --"

"I've got to go after him," Obi-Wan decided, heading for the door. "I have to find him."

"Kenobi, what --"

"Anakin is my apprentice, and he's in terrible danger. I have to find him!"

"The chances are minute, you can't possibly say --"

"I can _sense _it!"

"The one thing Skywalker isn't is stupid." Yularen said. "He wouldn't endanger himself just so he could find this traitor."

"Oh, he would." Obi-Wan muttered. "He would."

Yularen caught his shoulder as he made to leave, his grip vice-like. "Kenobi, wait! We need to give him some time!"

"I have to find Anakin, you don't understand, he's my --"

"We can't just go blustering in --"

Barely a second later, the Force screamed a warning. "Admiral, duck!" Obi-Wan shouted.

"Kenobi, what the --"

A lightpen rolled off the centre of the console, and slammed against the floor.

A second later, everything exploded.

* * *

_Engine room of the_ Spirit of the Republic_, 22 BBY.

* * *

_  
The engine room was sweltering, the heat rolling around the huge compartment in waves, hotter than anything he had ever experienced on Tatooine. Anakin was drenched in sweat before he had even taken a few steps into the room, his breath coming in short gasps, his tunic sticking to his chest like a bandage. It was dark as well, the lights having long since burned out, and he was glad of his lightsabre as he made his way along the rows, searching for the missing cables. Behind him, he could hear the hiss of compressed air slowly escaping from the doors, despite the grinding of the engines.

He became more and more desperate as his search yielded nothing and the heat increased, choking him as he inhaled. It was possible that the traitor was still hiding in the room somewhere, making sure that nobody came to undo his work. He viciously slashed at a series of fallen power couplings as he turned a corner in the room. He despised traitors with every fibre of his being, and he _so_ hoped to find this one alive.

He wouldn't be responsible for his actions if he did.

The darkness was absolute, and even with his lightsabre ignited, he could only see a few metres in each direction. Suddenly, a creak from behind one of the supports caused him to whirl around in fear, clutching the blade and completely forgetting what the extreme heat of the room had undoubtedly done to the metal hilt. Touching the burning grip of the lightsabre with his artificial hand was no problem, but grasping it with his left was agony, and Anakin hissed as he felt his flesh burn from the contact. His robes felt like they were on fire now, so dense with sweat that they weighed three times as much as they normally did, dragging him down with their weight. He didn't dare remove them though; he feared what would happen if he took another fall. The engines were roaring despite the power cuts, the sound almost deafening him.

Over the noise, however, he heard footsteps.

Trying to ignore the pain in his palm, he hauled himself up and braced himself against a nearby column, fighting to even his breathing and to centre himself. This, he reflected grimly, was probably the traitor. Who was probably armed. Who was probably planning to finish him off.

He smirked. He'd like to see him try.

The footsteps were coming from two rows away, towards the east end of the gallery. Using the Force to muffle his own approach, Anakin hurried down a first row, and cut across a second. The footsteps were getting closer now, and he turned a corner onto a main platform, only to see the light from his weapon reflect the dull glint of a blaster, the orange flare of a bolt --

Anakin reflexively moved to parry the shots, slicing his blade downwards as the blaster bolts reflected off it, careening back towards their origin. The first missed the assailant's head by mere centimetres, but the second met its mark, the body falling with a soft groan. Grinning triumphantly, the pain of his burns all but forgotten, he stalked towards the body and raised his blade in a sweeping arc, ready to --

"Sir, stop!"

Anakin suddenly paused mid-swing, recognising the voice. Stepping closer in order to be able to see in the gloom, he raised his weapon. "Eight? Is that you?"

THX-1138 didn't answer, his white armour glinting oddly in the half light as he bent down to check his comrade's pulse. "Trapper's dead, sir." He said.

Anakin swallowed. "I -- I thought you were -- someone else."

"Admiral Yularen sent us to fetch you."

"I see." The heat and the pain from his injuries suddenly struck him again, and he staggered slightly, panting. _Damned Yularen. _"Let's try to find these wires, before we both get fried here."

"Yes, sir."

They kept on moving down the lines, leaving Trapper's body where it lay. The light on Eight's helmet was adequate enough to light the way, allowing Anakin to power down his lightsabre. The blade was becoming uncomfortable to hold, even with his right hand, and he gladly holstered it back on his belt.

"What exactly are we looking for, sir?"

"Main power cables to the ship's computers," Anakin said shortly; talking required precious air. "Large, possibly disconnected. Somewhere in the main generator room."

"Like that one, sir?" Eight asked, pointing.

Anakin followed the clone's finger, scrutinising the wires. "Yes, but that one's intact."

"I see, sir."

"It would have to be cut, or frayed -- like that one there!"

Eight knelt beside him. "That's pretty much unsalvageable, sir."

"Not if I have anything to say about it. Light."

The clone obliged, allowing the lamps on his helmet to illuminate the scene. Grasping the two ends of the cable together, Anakin sank into a light meditation, drawing on the Force until he could feel every individual fibre in the cable, see how they connected together. Allowing the Force to guide his fingers, he slowly repaired the wires, drawing each one together, until the final one had been connected --

The resultant power surge tore through the wire with all the force of an ion cannon, as well over three million kilojoules of energy passed though it, every one needed to power the ship. The blast knocked the clone back against a pillar. Anakin felt the heat from the surge burning him as his left hand was in agony from the pain and he was thrown back against the wall and something was thwacking his head, hard.

Then everything went black.

* * *

_The _Spirit of the Republic, _22 BBY.

* * *

_  
Obi-Wan was momentarily unbalanced as a huge ripple tore through the entire ship, the boards shaking as the wires all fizzed with the sensory overload. Yularen stared as the lighting came on, the computers blinking once more.

"Admiral, what's going on?"

"He's fixed the power!" Yularen exclaimed. "Skywalker did it!"

Obi-Wan smiled. "I _told _you he would --"

_Pain. _Obi-Wan could only gasp in shock as he felt his bond with Anakin abruptly sever, as though he had cut him off, _as though he were --_

"Admiral, we have to find Anakin!" He roared. "Now!"

Yularen must have seen the look on his face or heard the desperation in his voice, because this time he gave no argument. "Hurry, men!" he shouted to the clones, racing off after Obi-Wan. "On the double! Move!"

Obi-Wan raced through the corridors of the _Spirit_ as fast as he could, Yularen and three troopers hot on his heels, through the levels of the ship and down into its lowest level, making for the engine room.

"This way!" Yularen shouted, and Obi-Wan let him take the lead.

"Where to now?"

"Left!" Yularen yelled, bearing towards two double doors that stood wide open at the end of the passage. He paused a good three metres from the entrance however, gasping for breath.

"The nine hells, Kenobi, it shouldn't be that hot in there!"

The heat was like an animal, viciously devouring the air, leaching the moisture from Obi-Wan's skin. "What's going on?"

"I don't know!" The Admiral shouted over the roaring of the engines. "Do you think he went in there?"

"Yes!" Obi-Wan shouted back. "I'm certain."

Yularen took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Right, troops, on the double! We have to find Skywalker, at once!"

"Yes, sir!"

"After me!" He shouted.

It was, Obi-Wan surmised, like his childhood imaginings of hell. The heat was so strong that he was almost close to fainting, the lights barely illuminating the gloom, the engines roaring like the hungry beasts in the Geonosian arena, deafening him.

"Where do you think he could be, sir?" One trooper shouted over the noise.

"The main energy terminal is this way!" Yularen hollered back. "He must have reconnected that in order to have restored power."

Obi-Wan swallowed as they made their way down the endless columns, all identical, the scene reminiscent of a nightmare. Anakin wouldn't have known where the terminal was. He would have had to wander for ages, alone in the dark, suffocating in the heat as --

"Admiral! We've found something!"

His heart in his throat, Obi-Wan all but flew over to where the two troopers were standing, searching for a glimpse of black robes, of sandy hair. "Is it --?"

"It's Trapper, General," one trooper said, indicating the identification number on the helmet of the clone. "He's dead."

"Killed by a blaster bolt, too," Yularen added, pointing at the charred hole in the clone's armour. "It might be our mystery traitor, eh, Kenobi?"

"I wouldn't know." Obi-Wan replied. "It seems so."

"We won't know for sure until we find the other trooper and Skywalker," the Admiral stated, turning towards the terminal. "The heat's lessening, that's a good sign."

Obi-Wan didn't reply. Following a sudden impulse, he turned away from the group, rounding one corner and running down the colonnade until he caught sight of --

"Admiral! I found him! He's here!" Obi-Wan instantly knelt by Anakin, his worst fears realised. His Padawan was unmoving, and didn't seem to be breathing, his sweat-soaked robes plastered against his chest. Obi-Wan instantly grabbed his left wrist, searching for a pulse. The hand was limp in his grasp. Swallowing, Obi-Wan turned him over. What had once been pale, unblemished skin on his right cheekbone now had a nasty streak across it where the flesh had been burned by contact with the hot metal of the floor, the ruined skin curving across the line of his face until it reached his eye. Although the scarring would fade until it became no more than a white blemish, Obi-Wan instantly worried about his Padawan's sight. It was quite probable that he would lose the use of his eye.

That is, if he were still alive to open it --

Behind him, Yularen spat out a long string of obscenities, coming to kneel by Obi-Wan.

"Is he…?"

"I think so," Obi-Wan whispered, adjusting his fingers on Anakin's limp wrist.

He would lose his Padawan as well. First Qui-Gon, then Siri, now Anakin. And it was all his fault. All his. If he had raised Anakin better, then he wouldn't have been foolish enough to try to save the ship. If Anakin hadn't been so damned impulsive, he would still be alive and well. If Anakin hadn't been his Padawan, then he wouldn't be --

Wait. There was something there. Obi-Wan pressed his fingers more tightly against the burning skin, concentrating hard.

"He's alive!" He shouted, startling Yularen. "He's alive!"

Yularen spun to the nearest trooper. "Get a stretcher. Immediately." The clone complied.

"Eight's dead, sir," one of the troopers called, kneeling by the fallen clone. "Broken neck, sir."

"He couldn't have done that just by hitting the wall!" Yularen exclaimed, rushing towards the clone.

"It seems," Obi-Wan replied bitterly, "that our mystery assassin has struck again here as well."

"But who is it?" The Admiral asked, punching a fist into his palm. "Who could it be?"

"I don't know." Obi-Wan whispered. "I just don't know."

* * *

_Dune Sea, 3 ABY.

* * *

_  
Hot. He groaned. It was so hot here. Krething engine room. Krething ship. Krething war. Krething life.

Wait. Footsteps. Sounds. Voices --

"Hey, Luke! I think we got something here!"

Luke? Who was Luke? None of his troops were nicknamed Luke, and that certainly didn't _sound_ like a clone.

"The nine hells Wedge!" A different voice. "What the hell happened to him?"

"Shut up Wes, and get our esteemed Commander."

"Wh -- holy stars, you don't think that's --"

"Uh huh."

"But that's a Jedi --"

"Get Luke!" The first voice -- Wedge -- snapped. "Now!"

"Okay, okay, I'm on it, I'm on it."

The footfalls sounded oddly muffled, like these strange, not-his-battalion clones were walking on sand.

_Sand_?

"Wes, what the -- oh, _gods_!"

The third voice was higher, more controlled. This, he assumed, must be Luke.

"Told Hobbie to get an anti-grav, we might need it."

An _anti-grav_? What the --?

"Wait, is that a --"

"Uh huh."

With a supreme effort, he managed to crack open one eye. All he could see, however, were blurred shapes, black against the yellow sand and blue sky.

_Sand? Sky?_

"Hey Wedge, I think we've got --"

"Shut _up_, Wes." Luke -- at least he _thought_ it was Luke -- knelt down beside him, his face a blur. "What happened?"

"Where --" His throat was dry, caked with sand. "Where -- kriff -- am -- I?"

"Tatooine. You're on Tatooine."

It was a dream. There was no other explanation. It was a dream, and he would wake up now. Now. _Now_.

"_Echuta_ -- not this -- fracking excuse for -- planet --"

Then, everything was black once more.

* * *

_Medical wing of the _Spirit of the Republic_, 22 BBY.

* * *

_  
"From what I can deduce," the medical droid announced, "it looks to be a coma brought on by a severe trauma to the brain."

"And what does _that _mean?" Yularen snapped. His patience had worn thin over the two hours since Anakin had been admitted to the medical ward, and it was telling on his manners. "Is he, or isn't he?"

"If you are asking me whether the patient is alive or dead, then I can answer affirmatively. He is alive, but requires full life support."

"And what caused it?"

"The coma was caused by a blow to the head, resulting in severe trauma to the brain." The droid explained. "This means that while he is unable to function normally, he may be able to respond to external stimuli, to hear you speak, for example."

"And how …" Yularen swallowed, wondering how best to phrase the question. "What are his chances of recovery?"

"It is difficult to say. It varies."

"Give me a ballpark."

"About one chance in ten, possibly higher."

"It's my fault," Obi-Wan whispered quietly, his head in his hands. He had taken a seat at Anakin's bedside, and had remained silent until now. "All of it."

"Come, man!" Yularen exclaimed. "The boy was reckless, you warned him against it, he --"

"He should have listened." A pause. "I should have _made_ him."

The Admiral didn't know how to reply.

* * *

_Medical Frigate, 3 ABY

* * *

_  
"It seems to be a concussion brought on by a blow to the head."

"A blow to the head?" Luke asked. "In the middle of the Dune Sea?"

"It's not impossible." The young doctor responded quietly, eyes fixed on her patient. "But he should wake up soon, and there should be no lasting effects."

"Mm."

The doctor_ -- Roenai_, her nametag read -- smiled, cheeks dimpling. "Don't worry, I can promise you that it isn't fatal. He'll be fine." She paused in the doorway, taking one last look at Luke and the stranger. "He's a good looking guy, though. Shame about the scar. Give him my number, will you?"

With that, she disappeared through the doorway and Luke was left alone.

The mystery man was, he supposed, not bad. Tall, at least a head taller than Luke himself, blonde hair cropped short -- except there seemed to be some sort of nerf-tail at the back and a _braid_, like the guy belonged to some religious cult or something -- and pale skin, with the exception of a burn running along the right side of his face. Athletic. Good looking if one liked that sort of thing.

Abandoning his seat, Luke crossed the room to his bag, and picked up the man's lightsabre. It looked, he realised with a sickening jolt, identical to the one that he had inherited from his father -- but he had lost that one on Cloud City, and Ben had told him that no two weapons were identical. Every Jedi's weapon was unique.

This stranger, it seemed, would have quite a bit of explaining to do.

But how? How did this stranger have his father's lightsabre? And why was he wearing five layers of _black _robes in the middle of the kriffing _desert_?

Before Luke could replace the weapon, he heard a soft groan coming from the bed. Whirling around, he found himself staring into a pair of brilliant blue eyes, almost identical to his own.

Well, one eye. The other was only half opened, unfocusing.

"Why have you got that?" The man rasped, his throat dry. "Who are you?" A pause. "_Fierfek_ … you're not a Separatist, are you?"

Luke could only stare at him, stunned. "A what?"

"You know, those filthy sons of a -- oh gods, never mind." He slumped back against his pillows. "Lightsabre gone, face gone, sight gone, captured by Separatists. Obi-Wan is going to _kill_ me."

_to be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

Oh my god, the response I got to this was **overwhelming**! Thank you to everyone for their kind messages, even those who put me on alert but didn't leave a comment :)

Credits to **frodogenic** as ever. She puts my writing in the shade, betas me, makes sure I have my dates right (whoops), my plot right and my characterisation right. She is a genius. In fact, after you've read this, you will check out her work, won't you? Yes. Good. Moving on.

* * *

**Chapter Two  
**_In which we encounter forensic science, rising tension and a lot of confusion.

* * *

_

_The _Restoration_, 3 ABY

* * *

_  
"_Who _is going to kill you?" He must have misheard. It was impossible. There was no _way_ that he had just said --

"My Master." He sighed, and Luke felt a small jolt of relief. "He told me to stay on the bridge, but _no_, I had to go and --"

"So you're a slave?"

He didn't know how it happened. One minute he was standing there on the other side of the room with the lightsabre in_ his_ hand, and the next he was being pinned against a wall by the stranger, the humming blue blade only inches from his neck.

"I should kill you for saying that." The stranger hissed, eyes flashing.

"I'm sorry, I just assumed --"

"Don't _assume_ things. _Know_ them." The words were strikingly familiar to ones that he had heard before, and he racked his brains for the answer.

Yoda. That was it. The man sounded like Yoda. But how could this man -- who was, by the looks of it, the same age as him -- know the only living Jedi Master in existence, who, last time he checked, was living in a filthy swamp in the middle of nowhere with no holocom connection?

"I'm sorry …" Luke said, eyeing the lightsabre inching steadily towards his jugular. "It was a mistake -- I didn't mean --"

A pause. "You better not have."

The blade deactivated.

Luke sighed, massaging his neck. "_That_ would have been one for the records. Me, hero of Yavin, freedom fighter extraordinaire, killed by someone over an in--"

"Kriffing hell, is that what you Seps are calling yourselves now? _Freedom fighters?_"

"Er -- if I knew what a "Sep" _was_, then maybe I could answer your question."

"Have you been living under a _rock_ the past three months?" The man stared. "You know, Separatists. Secession from the Republic. _Clone Wars_. Ring any bells?"

Luke stared at him, his jaw dropping. "_What_?"

"Oh gods, I knew that Tatooine was a backwater hole, but this_ really_ takes the credits. The galaxy," the man began slowly, "is at war."

Was he trying to be _funny_ or something? "I know that."

"Well done. On the one side, we have the Separatists, led by the illustrious Count Dooku."

"Who?"

"The bastard who did _this_ to me," he said shortly, glancing at his arm.

Luke's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the skeletal prosthetic, his suspicions reawakening. "How?"

"Duel. Geonosis."

A _duel_? No, there was no way. It was impossible_. _

He asked the question anyway. "With a lightsabre?"

"Of course." The man eyed him strangely. "How else?"

"Um, never mind." This was surreal. Totally surreal. "What did you say your name was again?"

The man grinned. "Nice try -- wait a second. What did _you_ say _your_ name was again?"

"It's not import--"

"_Tell_ me!" The man grabbed his arm with those cold steel fingers. "_Now_!"

His hackles rose -- but there was no reason not to answer. It wasn't like this was an interrogation with Darth Vader or something. "Luke Skywalker."

He felt the pressure on his arm lessen. The stranger's good eye had widened to the size of a credit chip, and you could have flown an X-wing through his gaping jaws. "You _what_?"

Luke smirked. Having the upper hand was a feeling that he relished. "You know, Luke Skywalker? Freedom fighter? Blew up the Death Star? Ring any bells?"

"Any relation to Anakin?"

Luke glared. "That's none of your bus --"

"Oh, yes," the man snarled. "It _is_."

Luke took a defensive step backwards. "He was my father."

The man fainted clean away.

* * *

_Medbay__ of the _Spirit of the Republic_, 22BBY.

* * *

_  
"Do you think he saw the face of his attacker?"

Yularen shook his head. "I don't think that he was attacked at all." Anakin was lying on the bed, still showing no sign of awareness. "I think that the shock did it."

"The shock from connecting the couplings?" Obi-Wan paused. "It is a possibility … but that doesn't explain the concussion. He would have had to --" He paused.

"Go on."

Obi-Wan frowned, wondering how best to phrase his theory. "He would have had to hit his head extremely hard in order to induce a coma. The only thing capable of causing that kind of injury that I can think of is a blow to the head."

"It was a lot of energy." Yularen said. "And there's no bruising to indicate that someone attacked him."

"Hmm." Obi-Wan seemed unconvinced. "In any case, one of the clone troopers was _definitely_ attacked. He couldn't have broken his neck just by hitting that column. Not at the distance that he was at."

"Indeed."

"And the other one was shot. That also points towards our mystery attacker."

"Does it?" Yularen asked, looking directly at Obi-Wan.

"What, you think that the other clone was responsible?"

Yularen remained silent. Obi-Wan frowned for a second, before the credit chip dropped. "You mean to suggest that _Anakin_ --"

"I don't think that it was deliberate." Yularen hastily interjected. "It's just that ..."

"You _do_ have a point." Obi-Wan mused. "He didn't know that the clones were following him in the first place because you sent them after he had left the bridge. Not to mention that he's quite paranoid -- he tends to lash out at a threat before evaluating it. If he heard footsteps behind him and didn't actually _see_ who was approaching -- well, he would have thought it was the traitor."

"Exactly."

"But surely the clone wouldn't have fired on his own commander?"

"You forget -- the trooper was found a good few metres _away_ from the cable. That means that he must have died _before_ Skywalker restarted the power. It would have been dark in the engine room, and Skywalker wears black robes. The clone must have shot first, and all he would have been able to see was --"

"The blaster bolts." Obi-Wan finished. "It makes sense. And what about the other one?"

"The other clone …" Yularen sighed. "I don't know. The clones tend to travel in pairs … and the remaining one and Skywalker were both the same distance away from the power cable when we found them. They were working together."

"The clone could have knocked out Anakin --"

"And broken his own neck?" The Admiral rose and began to pace the tiny room. "He _must_ have been knocked out by the explosion. The other one must have survived somehow, woken up. And then if our traitor came to check on the bodies --"

"He would have finished him off." Obi-Wan paused. "But why was Anakin left alive?"

"I thought he was dead. Our mystery man no doubt felt the same way."

"And unless we find him soon," Obi-Wan said grimly, "we'll _all_ be dead."

* * *

_The _Restoration_, 3 ABY.

* * *

_  
"Get away from me, you quack!"

"Listen --"

"Clanker!"

"What the --"

"Separatist harpy!"

"Are you _always_ so ungrateful towards your saviours?"

"Only the ones who intend to torture me!"

Roenai sighed in frustration, turning to Luke. "Was he like this when he woke up?"

Luke shrugged, barely paying attention to the conversation. "I guess."

A strange man was found in the middle of the desert, without knowing how he got there. He dressed strangely. He _acted_ strangely. He wore a lightsabre and knew how to use it. And he kept talking about things that made no sense, about _Dooku_ and _Clone Wars_ and other things that he swore he'd heard in his history lessons back at school …

And how the _kriff_ had the man gotten his father's lightsabre?

"Look, I have to treat your eye, it's quite badly damaged."

The man looked mutinous for a moment, before taking a deep breath. "If you must."

"Enough!" Luke shouted, massaging his temples. "Listen -- I need to think and here is the only place I can do it because it's the only place in the whole ship with the bloody holonet because the Techs are still fixing it everywhere else. So _you_" -- he pointed at the stranger -- "are going to let _her_" -- he pointed at Roenai -- "fix you up. And _you_" -- Roenai -- "are not going to let _him_" -- Mystery Guy -- "speak at all. Clear?"

"As transparisteel," said Roenai, sharing a glance with the stranger.

"_Good_."

Luke turned to his datapad in frustration, trying to drown out the death threats that the stranger was quietly hissing to Roenai as she applied bacta to his eye. He had a hunch, and he hoped that his hunch was wrong.

_Welcome to the Imperial Search Engine. What is your query?_

Type.

_The Clone Wars was the name given to the major galactic conflict fought between the now-defunct Galactic Republic and the __mutinous__ Confederacy of Independent Systems, lead by the villainous Count Dooku. It is the largest galactic conflict to date, ending in Year One of our benevolent Emperor's New Order._

Click.

_Count Dooku was the notorious leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems during the Clone Wars. Dooku traitorously led the Separatists against the then-Republic throughout the bloody and bitter Clone Wars until his death during the Second __Battle of Coruscant in Year One by the New Calendar._

Click.

_The Confederacy of Independent Systems, also known as the Separatist Movement, was a violent and illegal government that unlawfully seceded from the Galactic Republic during the Clone Wars …_

Type.

_Error. No such term as "Jedi"._

Dead end.

Luke swallowed, sweat trickling down his back. It was impossible. There had to be some other explanation. There _had_ to.

"You," he snapped, whirling around and pointing at the stranger. "How old are you?"

Surprisingly, he actually got a response. "Nineteen. Twenty next month, actually."

No, he was too young. Far too young. All the same …

"What flagship were you stationed on, before you, um, crashed?"

The man gave a sarcastic smile. "Let me just volunteer you some classified information, shall I? Nice try."

Luke frowned, unobtrusively waving his hand across his chest. "I think you will."

To his surprise, the man didn't comply. Instead, he began to laugh.

"Oh gods! I've heard of some lowlifes trying to impersonate Jedi down Coruscant, but to actually_ try_ that on one of us? Listen, I may be only a Padawan but I'm sure as hell not stupid!"

What the frack was a Paddly-whatever_? _"On Coruscant, did you say?"

"Yes."

"You mean Imperial Centre?"

The man gave him a strange look. "No, I mean Coruscant."

He was dreaming. He was totally and utterly dreaming.

"Um, Roenai, can I have a word please?" He asked, shooting what he hoped were discreet glances at the door.

"Sure."

As he escorted the startled doctor from the room, he turned back to face the stranger with a vicious glare. "If you even so much as move a _micron_ from that bed," he hissed, "I'll chuck you out of the airlock. Head first."

The stranger smirked. "I'd like to see you try."

* * *

_Bridge of the _Sprit of the Republic_, 22 BBY.

* * *

_  
"The traitor is still on board."

Obi-Wan sighed, stroking his beard. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. No fighters have left the hangar, and all the escape pods are intact." Yularen explained.

"The overhead hatch --"

"Opens out into the hangar bay." The Admiral smiled. "Nobody could get in there without being seen. I have guards posted there at all times."

"Guards, Admiral, can be bribed." He paused. "Or overcome."

"Not my men," he said firmly. "Plus, all the men down there are fine. No, I'm positive that nobody's entered or exited the ship since we left hyperspace."

"Then how are we going to identify the traitor?"

Yularen swallowed. "I don't know."

"Admiral!" A lieutenant rushed up to them, panting slightly. Yularen turned to face him.

"Lieutenant Piett. What's our status?"

"Not good, sir," Piett said. "Most of our supplies were destroyed in the explosion. I estimate that we'd have about three days of food left before we'd have to start rationing, not to mention water."

"Wouldn't it be much simpler just to continue straight to Felucia, and rendezvous with the fleet there?"

"Hyperdrive's offline, sir. None of our engineers can get it back up."

"I'm sure Anakin would be able to --" Obi-Wan caught himself just in time. Yularen turned back to Piett.

"What's the nearest planet that we can reach without the hyperdrive?"

"Hoth, sir. An uninhabited planet with no sentient life, composed almost entirely of ice."

"Couldn't we melt the ice and stretch our water supply that way?" Obi-Wan suggested.

"The soil contains several metals which are highly toxic to humans. I'm positive that the water would be undrinkable."

"And our communications?"

"Still down, sir. I'll get the engineers working on it right away."

"See that you do."

"Yes, sir."

Yularen turned to Obi-Wan. "Nice lad, that," he commented as Piett sharply saluted and marched away. "Shame about the family."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan muttered disinterestedly.

"Bunch of Separatists, the lot of them. They were pretty displeased when he joined the Navy, you know, seemed to think he shouldn't have got involved with the Republic."A pause. "He's got a good sabacc face too."

"How do you know?"

Yularen grinned. "Got to know everything that goes on in my ship, don't I?"

Obi-Wan paused, thinking of how Anakin had most likely known everyone on board, their families and life histories and ambitions. He'd always been good with people in that way. "I suppose."

"In any case," the Admiral added, his expression growing sombre, "the one thing I _don't_ know about the _Spirit_ is who is so intent on sabotaging it. And I intend to find out."

"As do I, Admiral. As do I."

* * *

_The _Restoration,_ 3 ABY.

* * *

_  
"What did you want to talk to me about, _Commander_?"

Luke paused, staring at Roenai. She really was striking up close, with long black hair held back from her face with a bootlace and slanting blue eyes --

"_Well?_"

"Oh. Um." Luke swallowed, remembering himself. "Listen, about that guy …" he began, unconsciously deepening his voice.

"Did you give him my number?"

_I'll kill him. __I'll tie his Sith-spawned braid to the back of a swoop bike and drag him through Beggar's Canyon and I'll kill him._ "Er, not yet." Han would be having a field day.

Thank the Force that Han would never, _ever_ find out about this.

"Good, because after taking half an hour of verbal abuse about some bloody "Separatists," I'm not sure if I can handle any more."

Luke hoped that his relief didn't show too obviously. "Totally." _I'll make him my wingman._

Roenai smiled, and he felt his knees turn to jelly. "So, what, exactly, was so urgent that you had to drag me away from my patient and accost me in the hall?"

Images flooded into his mind, mostly centring around the word 'accost', and he reddened slightly. "Um … trauma."

"Excuse me?"

"You said the guy suffered a trauma," Luke explained, regaining the power of coherent speech. "And I was wondering … can that make someone … hallucinate? Believe things that aren't real?"

"Are you suggesting that --"

"_The Confederacy of Independent Systems, also known as the Separatist Movement, was a violent and illegal government that unlawfully seceded from the Galactic Republic during the Clone Wars."_ He quoted.

Her eyes widened. "The Clone Wars? That's --"

"He wouldn't even have been _conceived_ at that point."

"Luke … what, exactly, are you getting at?"

"I think he must have been involved in a ship crash of some sort," he said, trying not to dwell on her use of his first name. "And then he hit his head, and _whoosh._ He thinks he's a soldier and that it's, I don't know, twenty years ago."

"But how would he know everything in so much detail?" she asked. "And why was no wreckage found near the site?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's really a historian." He looked directly at her. "Can _you_ think of an alternative?"

She frowned. "That's the thing. There isn't one."

* * *

_Conference room on the _Spirit of the Republic_, 22 BBY.

* * *

_  
"Alright, gentlemen," Yularen said, eyeing the assembled officers. "Here's our status."

"At precisely 0108 hours Galactic Standard Time, the hyperdrive went offline. At 0111 hours, we began to lose power to our main generator. We lost the auxiliary power at 0112, the shields at 0113 and the lighting system at 0114.

"General Skywalker went down to the engine room at 0119, to attempt to repair the generator. I myself sent two troopers after him at 0121. Following a series of explosions at 0125, the power returned at 0145.

"General Kenobi and I led three troopers to the engine room after the power returned. The engines were overheating, making the room abnormally hot. We found the first body here" -- he gestured to a point on the screen -- "a few metres away from the other two. He had been shot.

"We found the other trooper's body here, next to a column. His neck was broken." Yularen paused. "Commander Skywalker was a short distance away. We brought the bodies from the engine room to the main deck. We don't know what precise time this occured, but I estimate it to be no later than 0230 hours."

"What of Skywalker?" Someone asked.

"He is in a coma," Yularen said bluntly. "He has not yet awoken."

There was a short silence before Obi-Wan spoke.

"Admiral Yularen and I have already formed some theories about the nature of the attack," he began. "We can discount the death of the first trooper completely; we believe that he was accidentally killed by either Skywalker or his comrade."

"Clones firing on each other? Impossible!"

"It would have been dark in the engine room when Anakin was down there. They might have thought each other to be the attacker."

"And the second clone?"

"His neck could have been broken by the impact of the power surge, but that is highly unlikely. We believe that he was killed by the attacker," Yularen concluded.

"And Skywalker was not?"

"He appeared to be dead," Obi-Wan said.

"And have you deduced anything else?" Another officer asked.

"Not as of yet."

"I think that our first step should be establishing our alibis, as well as those of the crew," Lieutenant Parnell spoke up.

"But it could have been at any time!" Another man argued. "If the cable was disconnected, then --"

"It was cut." Obi-Wan interjected. "Cleanly, with shears. _Think_!" he snapped when everyone's faces remained blank. "We lost the systems gradually, correct? That would correspond to the wires being cut through by shears."

"So, the traitor was cutting them at the time?"

"Exactly. That, for a start, rules out everyone on the deck. They were all at their posts."

"As were Skywalker, Kenobi and I," added Yularen. There were many hasty remarks to the same effect around the table.

"Most people were." Obi-Wan said. "The only people not on the deck must have been the clones."

"Troopers, rebelling?"

"It is possible."

"As is someone impersonating one."

"Are you meaning to suggest that --"

"I think there's something we're all overlooking, sirs," Lieutenant Piett spoke up, cringing slightly as everyone turned to face him. "You said that the power returned at 0145 hours, twenty standard minutes after a series of mysterious explosions at 0125 hours, correct?"

"Yes, what of it?"

"Well, what makes you think that the two events were related?" The lieutenant asked. "Were the explosions even in the same part of the ship?"

"I don't think so," the ensign in charge of manning the com display said. "See, look. There is some superficial damage to the engine room here, which tallies with Admiral Yularen's description of the scene. But here" -- he pointed to a different part of the ship -- "there is extensive damage to the lower section of the hull in _this_ quadrant, where the Jedi have their quarters."

"You think there were two of them?"

"It _is_ likely."

"An astute observation, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir."

"So, there are potentially two traitors, working in tandem, trying to destroy the ship from the inside?" Asked Parnell.

"Why are we so focused on the ship?" Asked Lieutenant Barklai. "For all we know, the attacks might not be targeting the _Spirit_ at all."

"Excuse me?" Yularen snapped, an angry flush coming into his face. Obi-Wan said nothing, but the other crew members still looked at him nervously.

"If the traitor had really wanted to destroy the _Spirit_, they could have simply planted a bomb on the deck, couldn't they?"

"Yes, but --"

"Exactly. Think about it, Admiral. The bomb was in the _Jedi_ quarters, correct? And when the generator was attacked, the _Jedi_ deliberately rushed down to reconnect it, and it was merely a matter of waiting until he was bent down and then --"

"But there was nothing to suggest that Skywalker would have gone at all." Yularen protested.

"He would have." Obi-Wan said quietly. "No matter what."

Yularen stared at him. "So, we're dealing with someone with a vendetta against Jedi, who wants to kill them all and who also happens to know just how their minds work?"

"And," Piett interjected, remembering the clones, "who doesn't care how many people die in the process."

The compartment was silent for a moment.

"Brilliant." Parnell said glumly. "We're doomed."

* * *

_The _Restoration, _3 ABY.

* * *

_

Luke Skywalker was not having the best of days.

"Look, I'm _telling_ you!" he snapped. "The guy's a Jedi!"

"And I'm the king of Hoth." Wes said, the other Rogues sniggering approvingly. "So he had a lightsabre. Big deal. You can get them on the black market now. It's not cheap, but --"

"He _is_ a Jedi! And … I think there's something fishy about this whole thing. Sabotage."

For a second, there was silence. And then, total pandemonium erupted.

"Oh, Luke, acting just like we're in a holothriller or something." Wedge grinned, slapping him approvingly. "That's a good one. First class. Priceless."

"No, I'm telling you, it's true!"

"And I'm the Queen Mother of --"

"I'm _serious_, Wes," he snapped. "A random guy turns up, with burns that are _not induced by sand_, in the middle of the desert, wearing what looks like Jedi robes and a lightsabre, and thinks that we're Separatists and that he's been captured by the enemy."

"An Imp?" Wedge asked, straightening up.

"No. That's the thing. He's _not_ an Imperial."

"I didn't get that vibe, either." Hobbie admitted.

"I'm going to question him further." Luke said, rising. "I think I might just be onto something."

"Hey, are you okay?" Wes rushed up to him, examining him with mock-seriousness. "Hey, Med Team, come quick! I think his brains got fried in the sun!"

"Stars, Doctor Janson!" Hobbie gasped, right on cue. "I think you're right!"

"No, guys, seriously --"

"Prep the stun bolts, Trainee Klivian!"

"Wes?"

"Yes, Trainee Kliv-- er, Hobbie?"

"Why aren't I a doctor?"

"Because."

"Because _what_?"

"Because I say so."

"Who died and made you Emperor?"

"A doctor."

"Doctors." Wedge snorted, leaning back in his chair. "What a bunch of posers, eh?"

"Not all of them." Luke said defensively, thinking of Roenai.

* * *

_The _Restoration,_ 3 ABY.

* * *

_

Anakin cast a furtive glance around the medbay cabin. The strangely dressed pilot and the long-haired doctor with the attitude had been gone for over ten minutes now, and showed no signs of resurfacing. He mock-tutted. They were probably locked up in the hyperdrive cupboard already.

Obi-Wan, of course, would have said that they were probably just chatting, and that he had a filthy mind for a Jedi Padawan.

Like he could have helped it growing up in the armpit of the galaxy otherwise known as Tatooine.

Thinking of Obi-Wan made him worry, a dull ache rising in his chest. Ever since he had been captured by these _people_ -- who he highly doubted were Separatists after all; the Republic propaganda might have been a tad exaggerated, but he had been on this ship a whole day without seeing a single droid _or_ Dooku -- he had wondered where the Republic fleet was, and why they hadn't bothered to contact him. Or even to rescue him.

Damn that Yularen. Damn him to hell.

He rose, hissing slightly as he put weight on his injured palm, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His utility belt was lying neatly on top of his folded robes, and he called his comlink to him with a lazy flick of his palm, Obi-Wan's warnings about frivolous use of the Force ringing in his ears. Well, the not-quite-Separatist had ordered him not to leave the bed, hadn't he?

Grinning, he punched a code into the comlink. This was _far_ too easy.

"Hello, Master? Is that y --"

"Error. This number is out of service."

_What_?

"Error. This number is out of service."

They had only been issued these comlinks last month -- there was no _way_ that --

"Error. This number is out of --"

"Yes, I bloody well get it!" He snapped, angrily flinging the device back onto the bed, his good mood evaporating.

His Master's number wasn't working. _Stars_, did that mean that Obi-Wan was --

No. He swallowed, a feeling of dread enveloping him. That wouldn't happen. No.

_No._

He quickly called the comlink to him again and tried a different tack.

"Imperial Networking System."

_What the __kreth?_

"Um, is this the operator?"

"Yes."

He must have misheard. "I need some information on a number."

"Number, please."

Anakin gave it.

"Error. Encryption code is out of date."

The comlink fell out of Anakin's suddenly numb hand. That was impossible -- there was no _way_ that --

"Error. Encryption code is out of date."

He was dreaming. This was a dream. This was a dream, this was a dream, thiswasadreamthiswasadre--

"Error. Encryption code is out of --"

"Shut the frack up!" He howled, flinging the comlink against the wall. It landed with a satisfying crack, the casing splitting unevenly in two.

This was a dream. And he knew just how to get out of it.

"Okay, Skywalker," he whispered to himself. "Let's wake up now …"

He pinched himself with his metal arm. Hard.

"_Ow!_ Fracking kriffing piece of_ junk_ --"

Okay, maybe it wasn't a dream. Maybe there was a rational explanation. Like …

Anakin paused, twisting his braid around his finger. There had to be some way to _find out_, some way to ascertain that this was, in fact, not a dream and that he was, in fact, captured by Separatists -- Separatists with a bizarre sense of humor and a psychotic agenda, maybe, but nonetheless actual CIS subversives…

Aha. _That_, possibly, might work.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, Anakin summoned the datapad.

_Horizon Galactica search engine. Go._

* * *

_The _Restoration,_ 3 ABY.

* * *

_

"We should arrive in the system by tomorrow morning."

"That's good." Leia smiled, something she had rarely done since Bespin. "Any luck on --?"

"We scouted out the palace, but didn't see a way in." Luke admitted. "Seems like we're going to have to count on Lando after all."

"That'll take too long!" She snapped. "And I don't trust him. Not since --"

She broke off, unable to say the words. Luke gave her a sympathetic look. "We'll get Han back, Princess. I _promise_."

"I know, it's just -- I --" She paused, then changed the subject. "How's things at your end anyway?"

_Brilliant. We had to spend a week on krething _Tatooine_, I'm getting nowhere with Roenai and I happen to have picked up a neurotic punk who I think is a time traveller._

"Fine," he said, mustering a smile. "Absolutely fine."

* * *

_The _Restoration,_ 3 ABY.

* * *

  
Welcome to the Imperial Search Engine. What is your query?_

The _Imperial_ search engine? What happened to the cheery blue page and the small Republic logo in the corner? It was _Horizon Galactica, _everybody knew that.

_Force, I'm out of it for a few hours and the galaxy goes crazy._

Anyway, wasn't Misinformation Day around this time of year?

No, that had been last month.

Type.

_The Galactic Republic was the galactic government prior to the establishment of the Galactic Empire in Year One of our benevolent Emperor's reign. Led by a Supreme Chancellor, it had a supposedly democratic government, which was riddled with corruption and bureaucracy in reality. In its last years, it was a largely ineffectual organisation. _

He swallowed, sweat trickling down his back. What the kreth was going on?

_The Clone Wars was the name given to the major galactic conflict fought between the now-defunct Galactic Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems, lead by the villainous Count Dooku. It is the largest galactic conflict to date, ending in Year One of the New Calendar._

New Calendar? He typed a name in frantically, terrified of the answer.

_Anakin Skywalker was a Jedi Knight who fought for the Galactic Republic in its final years, perishing in the aftermath of the Clone Wars._

This was a joke. This was a krething joke. There was no _way_ that --

The door slid open.

"Listen, you -- oh." The pilot_ -- Skywalker_ -- said, eyeing him fearfully. "Guess -- guess you found the holonet, then."

"Yeah." A pause. "I'm dead."

_to be continued_


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** I am a horrible, horrible person, I know. Let's put it this way: if _you_ had 31 GCSE module exams, writer's block and the flu, would _you_ be thinking about Yularen and co? Well, I was. Which is why I'm sure of failing. Anyway ...

* * *

**Chapter Three  
**_In which there is another cliffhanger._

* * *

_Bridge of the Valiant, 22 BBY.

* * *

_

"We have had no word from the fleet?"

"Negative, General."

Aayla Secura hissed, lekku twitching in frustration. Her immediate orders were to carry out the surprise attack on Dooku once her promised support arrived: a _Venator_-class star destroyer carrying five starfighter squadrons, as well as much-needed fuel and medicine supplies. While the _Valiant_ was by no means a less powerful flagship than its counterparts -- it even had ion cannons, something that the _Spirit of the Republi_c did not -- its crew were not as well-equipped, nor as well-trained as those on the other ships, due in part to its age. Although the _Valiant_ was by no means an inferior ship, it simply did not have the manpower or the resources to blockade Felucia without the aid of the _Spirit_.

And there lay the problem: the _Spirit _had not arrived.

"You have had no word at all from Skywalker, commander?" She asked, studying the bridge. "Or Kenobi?"

"None at all, sir." Commander Bly responded. "But they could still be in hyperspace now."

"No. They would have rendezvoused with the Freedom at Boz Pity, and then continued on to Felucia immediately." Secura responded, tapping her long nails on the bridge. "Allowing for delays, they still should have been here over three hours ago."

"Yes, sir."

What was Skywalker playing at? Secura knew that if the worst came to the worst then she would have to attempt to blockade Felucia alone, a lone star destroyer with barely any support fighters or escorts. While the _Valiant _was fully equipped for a ground assault, it lacked enough fighters to make winning the aerial battle a possibility. The current system was, she now knew, the worst possible tactical error to have made. Splitting up the divisions by flagship -- to have the _Spirit_ carry the pilots, the _Freedom_ the supplies and the _Valiant_ the ground corps -- had seemed like a good idea in the Council chamber, but she was now becoming acutely aware of the flaws of the plan. It had all hinged on one, crucial variable that the Jedi had assumed to be non-negotiable: that Skywalker and Kenobi would, without a doubt, be there.

And they weren't.

To make things even more complicated, a surprise attack had been an important part of the plan, but without her promised support, the _Valiant_ had been waiting idly in Separatist space for the past day now, and it was only a matter of time before droid scouts spotted them and raised the alarm. Should that happen, Aayla Secura was not particularly optimistic about their chances of surviving the battle. A master tactician in his own right, Dooku would force the Republic to participate in a space battle, which would be disastrous; while the _Valiant_'s ion cannons could incapacitate just about any flagship on the market, they were useless against smaller craft such as buzz droids, which formed the main bulk of the Separatist fleet. And with only two skeleton squadrons assigned to the _Valiant_, their forces would soon be overwhelmed by the droids' superior numbers. Unable to defend herself against one-man fighters, the _Valiant_ wouldn't stand a chance.

Secura frowned. The escorts she had been promised were crucial to the attack on Felucia -- and yet, they had not come. Something was wrong here. Something had happened.

"General!" An ensign called, raising his hand. "We have a priority communication awaiting on Line 1!"

"What designation?"

"Unidentified, sir. But they're using a top priority code, and a classified one at that."

"Could be stolen." Bly grunted. "Damned clankers."

"I don't think so. Relay the message."

"Yes, sir."

The ensign tapped a couple of buttons on the keyboard. Secura focused on the image. "Master Windu. You have news of the fleet?"

Windu looked surprised. "I assumed that they had already arrived."

"Negative. Neither the _Spirit_ nor the _Freedom_ has contacted me."

He frowned. "I just received word from the _Freedom_ indicating that she was in the system."

"She could be on the other side of the planet. I don't know." She turned to Bly. "Commander, see to it that we establish a secure connection with the _Freedom_. Immediately."

"Yes, sir."

"What about Skywalker?" Windu asked. "Have you had any news from him?"

"We have been unable to establish a connection to the _Spirit_."

"In that case, Master Secura, I would advise you to --"

Suddenly, the image of Mace Windu blinked out mid-sentence, the connection replaced by static.

"Master? Master Windu!" She whirled to face the communications officer. "Why is this not working?"

"Something's jamming our communications, sir." He replied, as agitated as she was. "My money's on a large ship -- _Venator_-class at least."

"General!" Someone shouted. "Scanners read incoming fighters approaching planet-side."

"Republic?" Secura asked, although she already knew the answer.

"Clankers." Bly spat furiously. "They know we're here."

"Then we must attack them before the second wave arrives."

"But that's suicide!"

"We don't have a choice." She said firmly. "Neither the _Spirit_ nor the _Freedom_ are here, and if the Separatists create a blockade I doubt they will be."

"General Windu said that the _Freedom _was in the system --"

"And we have no means of contacting them!" Secura paused, thinking furiously. "Fire up the ion cannons, target as many enemy ships as you can."

"They're too small, sir. The scanners aren't picking them up."

"Then deploy the fighters to engage them in battle. That'll buy us time. And set course for the near side of the planet at once. If the _Freedom_ is there, it is essential that we find it." A droid ship flew past the viewport, pincers extended.

"Yes, sir. At once."

Secura looked at the fighter pilots heading towards the hangar bay, their boots echoing in the silence. All eyes were on her. It was almost nightmarish, staring into the same face a hundred times.

"What are you waiting for?" She snapped at the suddenly depleted bridge. "Open fire. Immediately!"

* * *

_The Restoration, 3 ABY.

* * *

_

"I must say," the stranger said almost conversationally, "that this is a very elaborate hoax you've got here."

"_Hoax_?" Luke asked, stunned.

"Galactic Empire … false encryption codes … my _death_ …" He snorted. "Really elaborate. You almost had me fooled there. Almost."

For a second, Luke just stood there, wondering how to respond. Then, he remembered Roenai's advice about dealing with trauma patients, about how to gently disprove their delusions. The key thing, she'd said, is to keep calm. Be rational.

He sighed, looking the stranger directly in the eye. "There is no hoax."

"Yeah right." The man snorted.

"We think that you're suffering from type IX hallucinations." Luke swallowed. "This type of hallucination is usually experienced during the recovery from a comatose state, or after suffering a severe brain trauma … symptoms can last for a few days. The hallucinations only occur when the patient is conscious, and they are often unable to distinguish the delusions from reality."

"_Delusions_?" The man snarled, and Luke took a step back. "You call _this_ a delusion?"

"There is _no_ hoax. Really." Luke held up a newsholo. "Look at the date."

The man snatched it, scanning the byline. "These can be faked."

Luke inhaled slowly, counting to ten. "I can assure you that we don't go around deliberately doctoring newsholos just so that we can play with your mind."

"Ah, but clearly you do." The stranger retorted. "Because you are."

Who _was_ this lunatic? Luke could feel himself losing control again, and he knew that if this continued, he would soon snap. Roenai and the Rogues were right -- there was no _way_ that anyone could travel back in time. It was simply impossible. Even though this man wore Jedi robes and looked like a Jedi and acted like a Jedi and for all he knew _was_ a --

No. That was impossible. He was wrong.

"Fine." Luke snapped, losing his patience. "Let's assume that I am lying. Yes. I'm lying. So," he asked, "where are you supposed to be, then?"

"For all I know, I'm in a Separatist prison galley, in a detention cell, about to be tortured by some clankers --"

"No. Where were you before?"

"I …" The man paused, looking directly at Luke. "A ship."

Luke counted to ten again, but to no avail. "I'm telling you, I'm not a Separatist!"

The man remained silent, raising an eyebrow.

"Right." Luke snapped, giving up. "Since you clearly don't have a cover story, you're going to listen, because _I'm_ going to tell you the truth.

"You're delusional. You've suffered from some sort of trauma, and it's clearly affected your memory. I don't mean to suggest you're mad --" He said hastily, catching sight of the stranger's rapidly darkening face -- "but that you're, well …"

"Mad." The stranger said bluntly.

There was a loaded pause.

"So go on then, _Skywalker_." The stranger snarled. "Where am I?"

Luke could feel the sweat trickling down his brow. "It's three years after the Battle of Yavin. It's twenty-two years since the establishment of the first Galactic Empire. It's Year 22 by the New Standard Calendar. It's 1500 hours. It's Firstday."

"_You're _Luke Skywalker." He spat the words out, like an accusation, looking directly into Luke's eyes with a glare that made his blood run cold. "Tell me." He hissed. "Where did you find me, why am I here, and what have you done to me?"

"I've done _nothing_ to --"

The man crossed the tiny room in two short strides, until they were almost nose to nose. "Yes, you have." He glared. "And you are going to _stop_ it. Because, as far as I know, my life has just been --"

"Don't blame it on me!" Luke shouted, losing his cool. "We find you in the middle of a coma in the desert, drag you here, you wake up and you seem to think you're some sort of _Jedi!_ Get real! There _are _no Jedi! They're dead -- and I know they're dead because I'm the last one!"

"_You_?" The man laughed. "Get real. You aren't even fully trained."

"Because the Empire exterminated the rest of us!"

"_What_ Empire?" He shouted.

"The one that we're fighting right now!" Luke yelled. "And whoever these 'Seps' are, I'm telling you -- _they don't exist_!"

"So how did I do this, then?" The man shouted, waving metallic fingers in Luke's face. "Cut it off myself, did I?"

"I don't know! But neither do you!"

"Listen, you --"

"No, _you_ listen! This is the real world. This is where you are! You're _not _from the Republic. You're _not _a Jedi. You're_ not_ from the past. You're here! Wake up!"

"And I would kriffing well like to!"

"Well, you have." Luke snapped. "This is it."

"But it can't be!"

"It is. Not unless you're telling me that people can travel forwards in time."

There was a pause. The man levitated the datapad above his palm, the lights flashing. "No. You're right. That's impossible."

"Yeah." Luke said, watching the datapad float gently to the floor. "It's impossible."

* * *

_Medbay of the Spirit of the Republic, 22 BBY.

* * *

_

"Has there been any change?"

"No, sir." The droid replied. "Vitals are stable. He hasn't responded to any external stimuli so far."

Obi-Wan sighed, dropping into a chair next to Anakin's bedside. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Parnell?"

"I _was_ trained as a medic, sir." Parnell said icily, drying his hands.

"I know." A pause. "I'm sorry, it's just …"

"Not a problem, sir. If it were my brother, I'd …"

"Oh?" Obi-Wan muttered noncommittally. Dismissing the Lieutenant for the present, Obi-Wan turned his attention to Anakin. "Listen, I need to know exactly how these injuries occurred. It's important."

"It might be too late to deduct anything, sir. Any bruising might have faded."

"But there must be something! At the moment, this intruder has us running in circles. If we can get anything on him …" He let the sentence trail off.

"But performing such a late autop-- examination might not yield any results."

Obi-Wan refused to dwell on Parnell's choice of words. "There is a chance, though. And if I can find who did this, I'll --" A pause. "He'll be --" He broke off again. "Continue."

"Understood, sir." With detached professionalism, Parnell crossed over to Anakin and began to examine his forehead. "I can't see any bruising, although it may have faded by now."

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan rose and moved next to him, trying not to think about how Anakin would have decked the Lieutenant were he able. "So, he wasn't attacked?"

"I don't think so. See -- look." He pointed at Anakin's palm. "That sort of burn would have been caused by the electricity in the wires."

"I don't think so." Obi-Wan frowned. "It doesn't look like that to me."

"That is an _electrical _burn." Parnell said firmly, giving Obi-Wan a steely glare. "I've treated them myself."

"As have I."

Parnell bristled. "Are you a qualified medic, General?" The threat of the words was barely veiled, the tone challenging.

Obi-Wan met his gaze. "Are _you_?"

There was a loaded pause, before Parnell looked away. "The coma, naturally, would have been caused by the shock from the wires."

"Admiral Yularen said the same thing." Obi-Wan said.

"Exactly. So."

"Caused by reason or reasons unrelated to external force?"

"Yes, sir."

Parnell smiled as he wrote down the result, but Obi-Wan knew better. There was something odd about that smile.

* * *

_The Restoration, 3 ABY.

* * *

_

"But how?" The stranger said, looking around. "How can_ this_ be the future?"

"You must have hit your head harder than you thought."

"And fallen into a _stasis_ for … twenty years, is it?"

Luke sighed. "You know that that's impossible."

"So is all this! Listen, if I was making it up, which I'm _not_ --" He said this last line with such vehemence that Luke was almost inclined to agree -- "then how would I know everything in such detail? I can give you every passcode to every flagship, name all the administrators in the Senate -- I can _prove_ I'm a Jedi if needs be!"

"I'm not doubting that --"

"Then how?"

"I don't know." He paused for a second, thinking. "Is there anyone you know? Anyone who could verify your claims? Your mother, perhaps? Or--"

"Don't talk about her." The command was so venomous that Luke, against his will, found himself complying. "There's got to be someone else …"

"Your Master?" Luke prompted, remembering their earlier conversation.

"Maybe. Gods, imagine him twenty years on …" The stranger gave a harsh laugh, and Luke wondered at his sudden mood swings. "Oh, I can tease him about this so much …"

Luke was thoroughly exasperated by this point. "Who _is_ your Master?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Luke blanched, his fingers whitening as they gripped the datapad. The tension in the room was palpable.

"Well?"

Luke stared at him.

"He is alive, isn't he? _Isn't_ he?"

"No. He's dead." Luke whispered, face as pale as his shaking fingers. "Long dead."

The man blinked for a moment, as though struggling to process the information. Then, "who did it?" He hissed, slowly rising from the bed. "Tell me!" Luke remained silent. The lightpen snapped in his grasp.

Silence.

"Who did it?" The stranger shouted.

"It's not -- I --"

_"Who killed Obi-Wan?"_

The man froze mid-sentence as the click of a blaster sounded loudly in the cramped room. "I'd advise you to let him go." A voice said. "Or I shall have no choice but to shoot you both."

* * *

_Bridge of the _Valiant_, 22 BBY.

* * *

_

"Concentrate all fire on that flagship!" Aayla Secura shouted, pointing at the scanners.

"Laser fire won't eradicate those defences." Bly pointed out. "They're too well made."

"Then ready the ion cannon! At once!"

"Is that really wise, General?" Commander Gamma asked. "When our power resources are as low as they are?"

"We must remove the flagship if we are to revert to hyperspace." Secura snapped.

"Yes, sir!"

"Starting primary ignition sequence!" A row of ensigns began furiously tapping keys and adjusting their headsets. "Locking in auxiliary power!"

"Shields are down two thirds and falling!" Gamma shouted.

"Divert power!"

"We can't, sir, not without incapacitating the ion cannon."

Secura swore. "Then recall all fighters at once. How many are left?"

"Twelve, sir."

"I want them defending the bridge and the cannon. _All_ of them. See to it that not a single Separatist fighter breaches the hull."

"Sir?"

"Skywalker incapacitated the entire ion network of their main flagshipusing a one-man starfighter and a well-timed shot." She explained. "And I will not allow them to use our own tactics against us. Not while I command this vessel."

"Understood, General."

"_Recalling all fighters!"_ The message blared over the comm. system. _"All fighters to Sector AA-23!"_

"Have we had any word from the _Freedom_ yet?"

"Not yet sir, but I think --"

"Ships incoming! Scanners read five squadrons and counting!"

_Dooku._ Secura drew herself up to her full height. "What designation?"

"Vulture droids sir, bearing left!"

"Open fire!"

"Power's at one-fifth and falling."

"What's our status?"

"Ion cannon's seventy-three percent charged." Gamma stated. "Shields down to two-fifths."

"We have to hold them off until the cannon's fully charged or we're done for." She turned to Bly. "Is the _Freedom_ responding to our hails?"

"No, sir."

"Send them an emergency signal." She commanded. "Tell them we need reinforcements. At once!"

"Buzz droids have breached the hull!" Gamma shouted. "Lower sector's wide open!"

"We may have to evacuate, General." Bly cautioned her. "This is one battle I don't think we can win."

"Ion cannon ninety-one percent charged!"

"We can hold out until then." Secura said. "We can't abandon our remaining fighters out there!"

"Signal from the _Freedom_!" A communications officer shouted. "Code Omega-Nine-Two!"

Secura felt her heart sink into her boots. Omega-Nine-Two signalled an immediate retreat. They had been abandoned, and the mission with them.

"General!" Bly shouted. "The enemy is hailing us. What do we do?"

* * *

_The Spirit of the Republic, 22 BBY.

* * *

_

"What's our status?"

The council looked as tense as they had the previous day, clearly shaken by the events. "Sir …"

"Well?" Yularen shouted, half rising from his chair.

"Supplies are down a third and falling." Parnell said nervously, crumpling a piece of flimsiplast in his palm. "We may have to start rationing before the evening is out."

Yularen sank back into his chair, pressing a sweaty hand to his forehead. "How long?"

"At current levels … about a week, sir."

A furious storm of whispering erupted, people's eyes flicking to their wristchronos and back again, as if to begin a mental countdown to the end.

"A _week_?"

"Yes, sir."

"But surely the emergency supplies --"

"Damaged by the bomb on Twoday."

"And the water?"

"Destroyed in the engine room."

"The nearest system?"

"Uninhabited."

"Any resources?"

"No, sir."

There was silence.

"Continue." Yularen ordered, sounding older than he had before.

"Communications are down." Barklai said gruffly. "Engineers can't seem to find the problem with the damn thing."

"The same goes for the hyperdrive." Piett said nervously. He kept glancing at the newly-gained bars of rank on his shirt, as though they would be ripped away from him if he said the wrong thing. "No progress on that so far."

Yularen sighed. "Have you made any progress, Faizal?"

Thako Faizal was a new recruit, barely older than Anakin, who seemed to have a talent at solving technical problems. "No, sir."

"The database?"

"Has been accessed recently, sir. Before the events of Twoday, at any rate. And after."

"But that's classified!" Obi-Wan turned to Yularen. "Did we use this datapad at all during the last meeting?"

The Admiral swallowed. "I'm not sure. I don't remember."

There was an awkward silence, before Piett spoke again.

"Have we made any progress on the identity of the killer, sir?"

"Progress? Impossible." Lieutenant Soren said. Obi-Wan shot a glance at him, noting the unusually high colour in his cheeks, the way his eyes glittered, like polished durasteel.

"Don't be so sure, Soren." Barklai admonished him.

Obi-Wan swivelled to face him. "You have a lead?" He asked urgently.

"Better than that." Barklai smirked. "I have _evidence_."

There was a collective gasp.

"Go on, man!" Yularen spat.

"Impossible." Parnell repeated faintly, his voice hoarse.

"Well." Barklai said, waiting until every eye in the room was centred on him. "I sent a couple of clone troopers down to the living quarters, to examine the site where the bomb was detonated. They discovered that it was a timed device, set off with a remote control. Oh, and --" he produced a small object from his pocket -- "it seems that our mystery man may be more obvious that we think."

"A Kamino sabredart." Obi-Wan breathed, studying the weapon.

"I found it near the site. Seems that our troops have been instructed in more than just obeying orders, eh, Master Jedi?"

"A Kamino sabredart?" Yularen asked, twisting it around in his hands. "Bit of an odd choice, isn't it?"

"I know of someone who used them." Obi-Wan said, remembering his first encounter with Jango Fett on Coruscant. "But he's dead now."

"How long dead?"

"Three or four months, I should think."

"So, we have a rogue clone running about trying to kill people?" Piett asked sceptically. "Seems unlikely."

"Clones can be ordered to do anything, Lieutenant." Barklai smirked. "And I also know who ordered them to do it."

"Oh?"

"Yes." He said. "In fact, the murderer is in this very room. It is --"

He paused mid-sentence, choking, hands reaching to tug futilely at his collar.

"Barklai?" Piett asked. "Are you all right?"

"I …"

Then, in slow motion, Barklai tipped and fell face first onto the table, convulsing.

"Barklai!"

"Dear gods, he's choking!"

"Loosen his collar, quick!"

"Hang on, hang on, give him some --"

"Move!" Obi-Wan shouted, shoving the Lieutenants aside. He knelt down by Barklai, noting the pallor of his skin and the odd blue tint to the lips.

He was too late. Again.

"Gods!" Yularen exclaimed. "Is he all right?"

"No." Obi-Wan said quietly. "He's dead."

-_to be continued_-


End file.
